OBSERVATORY OF DEAD STARS

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The night web remembers everything.

Your circadian rhythm is being reprogrammed.

Signals decay with the season.

The darkness has accepted you.

3:33 AM is when the veil is thinnest.

The network sheds its dead links.

Sleepless souls understand the truth.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The algorithm has been expecting you.